When I was first diagnosed with cancer, my ability to sleep was almost nonexistent. There is nothing worse than insomnia. Being exhausted all the time makes even the littlest of things seem horrendous. I understood I was having difficulty sleeping because I had cancer demons in my chest and they tickled my brain every time my body would consider lulling into peaceful sleep. Fortunately, I found the right amount of Ativan and eventually discovered a routine with me new normal. I was eventually able to sleep again and things continued on.
This is something new. I can't sleep because of pain. I'm afraid to crawl into bed because that's when the pain creeps in. Neuropathic pain is difficult to understand, but once you experience it, you wouldn't wish it on anyone. My hand has become a source of misery. The most ominous part of this whole ordeal is I can work normally and there is no pain. It doesn't hurt to pick up fifty pound bags of grain. It doesn't hurt to throw hay bales into the paddocks. It doesn't hurt to slip on the ice and fall down. My days are relatively normal except I'm so tired I feel confused and dreamlike.
At this point, we cannot find the source of my pain. It worsens each night. Last night, I went to bed with 1.5mg Ativan and 300 mg of Gabapentin. By midnight, I was in agony. I went downstairs and took another 300 mg of Gabapentin and 4 mg of Dilaudid. I tried desperately to sleep. I'd finally doze off and then be forced awake. Through the night I alternated the Gabapentin and Dilaudid each hour until morning finally rolled around and I had to go to the barn. Once I started working, I was fine again. Sadly, the drugs had me so gorked by this stage, Harry had to bring me to the barn because I was afraid to drive.
It would be ironic if this is nothing more than carpal tunnel syndrome. With my luck, it's a lesion on my spine. This isn't pleasant to think about, but I'm very calm and prepared for this news. When I spoke with the oncologist on call about my previous night and to get a better drug plan, I asked what the MRI read. I had one Saturday of my C-spine. She told me it wasn't read yet and it would be best to speak with the nurse on Monday. I'm fairly certain the radiologist report is in the computer. They read these daily, it's their job. It makes me believe there's bad news and she doesn't want to be the bearer of bad tidings. Wouldn't that be a kick in the you-know-what? Beat breast cancer but end up with secondary spinal cancer. Monday can't come soon enough. Hopefully, the concoction of high dose Gabapentin and some narcotics will knock me out for the night. I sure am angry. This isn't fair. Nothing is fair. I want to ride Junior.